Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat facing the panel of admirals and couldn't help wondering precisely what his next mission entailed that it would require, not only an in-person briefing but, a formal sitting of six of Starfleet's highest-ranking officers. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he reasoned the mission wasn't likely to be simple or pleasant.

Of course, thanks to the Dominion War, none of his missions had been simple or pleasant in years.

He sighed and shifted in his seat, growing impatient with the silent scrutiny of the men and women sitting across from him. Admiral Peters—the one supposedly in charge of the briefing—continued to scroll through data on a PADD, seemingly oblivious to those around him. Admirals T'Krul and Shinzuki kept exchanging nervous glances and refused to meet his gaze; an act that not only surprised but concerned him. They'd been colleagues, almost friends, for decades.

He studied the other two senior officers at the table. These men he knew only by reputation. Admiral Beauregard idly scratched at the scar running through his beard as he studied Picard with equal scrutiny. Beauregard had been in command of the Lincoln when the Borg entered the Sol system. He'd sacrificed his ship on the outskirts of the system to buy the rest of the fleet the precious time it needed to mount a defence.

Picard swallowed. Rationally, he knew he was not responsible for what Locutus had done, but no amount of counselling or therapy would ever remove from his soul the stain of all those lives lost. Not only had he provided the Borg with the information they needed to decimate hundreds of ships, he'd choreographed the entire battle.

Admiral Peters set the PADD on the table and cleared his throat, bringing Picard back to the present.

"Captain Picard," Peters said, "let me begin by stating your service—and that of your crew—to Starfleet during the Dominion War has been exemplary."

"Thank you, sir."

"So, it is with genuine reluctance that I must assign this mission to the Enterprise." The admiral paused and checked his notes again. "We cannot begin to describe the level of relief that has come from the defeat of the Dominion and the return to peace in the Alpha Quadrant. You, of all people, know how perilously close we came to losing the war."

Picard nodded. The Enterprise had been in the thick of the action more times than he'd like to recall. When they weren't, he'd been tasked with the daunting responsibility of bringing as many potential allies into the fray as possible. Allies, including the Romulans.

"The result of the war, however," Peters said, "has left the Federation severely weakened. I would deny ever saying this, but it's on the verge of collapse."

Picard's eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes," Peters said, noting Picard's expression. "We suffered far greater damage than has been publicly acknowledged. And now, with the Romulans having annexed more of the quadrant…"

"It was my understanding that Ambassador Spock is working with the Romulan Empire to agree to terms outlining a new Neutral Zone."

Peters nodded. "Still, they came through the war far less damaged than we did. Aside from the worlds completely destroyed by the Dominion, only the Cardassians are worse off than we are."

"I see." Picard's pulse quickened and he clenched his jaw. War makes for strange bedfellows, he knew, but he'd never trusted the alliance between the Cardassians and the Federation. In his experience, he'd found people who changed sides once could only be relied on for one thing: to do so again.

He took a deep breath and released it. His distrust of the Cardassians went deeper than their actions during the Dominion War, and he forced himself to set his bias aside. They'd been instrumental in bringing the war to a close—losing over eight hundred million of their own people and nearly obliterating their homeworld when the Dominion retaliated—and their sacrifice could not be belittled.

"So now the rebuilding begins," Peters said. "And part of that process involves re-establishing ties with our member worlds and," the admiral cleared his throat, "firming up connections with new allies.

"To that effect, we are tasking the Enterprise with the duty of conducting a diplomatic exchange between the Federation and Cardassia. The treaty—and membership in the Federation—has been signed, and now it's time for us to match our actions to our words."

What the devil did we agree to? Picard wondered. His morning coffee congealed into a hard lump in his stomach as Peters grimaced.

"As per the treaty, we are required to turn over several Maquis—what remains of the terrorist group—and close to a dozen Dominion sympathizers." Picard's heart lurched. "They will be tried by the Cardassians and, if found guilty, sentenced."

Picard couldn't breathe. The walls seemed to collapse in on him. He knew—more intimately than anyone in this room—just what being held by the Cardassians would mean for those people.

"In exchange, we will take custody of several Guls who, based on our best information, were engaged in the most egregious violations of personal rights during the war." Peters tilted his head as he studied Picard's apparent distress. "Rest assured, Captain, they will be tried to the fullest extent. They will pay for what they've done."

Not so dearly as those going the other way, he thought. He stared at the admirals at the table. No wonder they didn't want to make eye contact. He couldn't think of a more distasteful mission.

The flagship of the Federation sent to deliver men and women to their deaths—swift ones, he hoped—in order to firm up a diplomatic agreement… He clenched his jaw.

Peace bought and paid for with blood.

Picard suppressed a shudder as he asked, "Which Guls?" He didn't want to ask, but he had to know.

Admiral Shinzuki met his gaze for the first time. Her rich brown eyes were sympathetic and the tiny downturn at the corners of her lips showed she understood some of his turmoil. Her voice trilled like water over river stones as she spoke, "There are nine. Gul Mul'kat, Gul Orent, Gul Feralt, Gul Ch'Esh, Gul Golend, Gul Dukest, Gul Purant, Gul Y'Lord, and Gul Ma—"

Please, no. Picard held his breath.

"Gul Ma'Dern," Shinzuki finished. She gave him a soft smile. "We could not make any official demands, but we were reliably informed that Gul Madred was killed during the Dominion's destruction of the Obsidian Order. He's gone, Jean-Luc."

Picard nodded and closed his eyes. He fought to bring his roiling emotions under control. He thought—believed—he'd recovered from his imprisonment and torture at the hands of the Cardassian Gul, but the sweat on his palms and the viscous oil coating the back of his throat indicated otherwise.

"Come now," said Admiral Beauregard, "surely the hero of Wolf 359 can handle a little diplomatic mission?"

Picard's gaze whipped to the man, and he shivered at the malice in the other man's eyes. "I am no hero," he said, keeping his voice low.

"No," Beauregard, agreed. "You're not. You are single-handedly responsible for the loss of millions of lives, the destruction of planets, the—"

"Enough!" Peters interrupted. "The captain was cleared of all charges stemming from the Borg invasion more than a decade ago! If you cannot keep your vitriol to yourself, you can leave. Is that clear?"

Beauregard glared at Peters, seemed to want to say something but then thought better of it. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He made no effort to hide his loathing as he stared at Picard.

"Captain, I apologize for my colleague's outburst. It was unprofessional."

Picard took a breath. "Wolf 359 is a traumatic moment in our history. There are many who still struggle for closure." Including me.

Peters nodded, accepting Picard's words.

"Sir? If I may clarify the mission parameters?"

"Go ahead."

"You want me to round up a group of people—"

"All but three of those on the list are already in custody, and those three—I am certain—will go without a fuss."

Picard nodded. "Then you want me to transport these prisoners to Cardassia Prime for trial and sentencing, at which point I will collect nine Guls and return them here for a similar fate?"

"No," Peters said.

"No?" Picard frowned in confusion. "Sir?"

"Not you. The Enterprise."

"Sir, I—"

Admiral Peters let out a breath in a rush and gripped the PADD on the table as he found his voice. "Captain Picard, by order of the Governing Council of the United Federation of Planets, I do hereby relieve you of command of the USS Enterprise and order you and your fellow officers to stand trial for your crimes against the Cardassian Empire during your unauthorized trespass of Celtris III."